Issue Three

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JAMIE KINN really matter. Just take it and get the hell out of there as soon as possible. The plastic basket strained under the weight of the cans, but she hardly noticed. Through the rows of the 24hour pharmacy, past the hair dye and shampoo. She found a massive crate of bottled water and slung it under her arm. Turned around and came face-toface with an employee in a green polo. He stared at her, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, a price gun frozen in his hand. She looked down at herself, tiny thing carrying her weight in food and water with no apparent effort. She glanced away quickly and headed for the register. She felt his eyes on her back all the way down. She dropped everything heavily on the counter before the cashier. The cashier paused, momentarily stunned, and then began to ring everything up, one-byone. Charlie kept her head down, face pointed away. Her heart was thudding painfully in her chest, her hands fidgeting, her gut squirming. Why was it taking this girl so long to ring up her shit? She felt like bolting, but she stayed glued to the spot, knowing anything she did, any action out of the ordinary, could bring the attention of the dogs down upon her. Fly straight. Follow the rules, she told herself. It took her a moment to realize that the cashier had her hand out, waiting for her money. “Sorry,” Charlie mumbled and dug around in her pocket. She pulled out a couple grubby hundred dollar bills and handed them to her. The cashier stared at them for a moment and then handed one of the bills back. She rooted around in the register and handed Charlie her change. Charlie stuffed the change and the hundred back into her pocket and effortlessly hoisted the bags of cans and the water crate into her arms. She shuffled out the doors, perhaps a little too quickly, the curious eyes of the employees following her all the way out. They whispered to one another and exchanged confused shrugs. She slunk into the house, weary from her night’s excursion, and dropped the food and the water into the kitchen. People exhausted her. Their cities, their cars, their dumb faces. Sometimes it was too much. It was getting light outside, slowly but surely. The sky was progressing from milky black to a deep ultramarine, filling the room with its dim light. She was feeling vulnerable and though the softness of the moldy beds upstairs
called to her, she knew she wouldn’t sleep easy unless she was somewhere dark and hidden. She plodded, stiff-legged, down the stairs and into the basement. There she found the darkest corner and curled up, hidden from the steadily brightening rays of light coming in through the windows. The concrete felt cool and dry against her skin. She drifted off into uneasy sleep. Voices from upstairs pulled her out of oblivion. She sat up, startled and disoriented. It was still dark outside but now the feeble light was coming from the other side of the room. It took her a moment to realize that she’d slept through the entire day and it was now dusk. Why had she slept so long? She froze at the sound of laughter coming through the ceiling above. It echoed around her, peeling back her skin, exposing raw fear. There were people in the house. She’d figured this would happen eventually, but she’d always held out the hope that she was wrong. That whoever had left behind all the food, the soda, the cigarettes and the booze, had gone away and was never coming back. She laid stock still in the shadows and listened. Loud, obnoxious voices. Boisterous. Young. There were six of them. Four boys and three girls. A crash and then more laughter. Another crash. They were tearing the place apart. Chest hammering, she got to her feet and crept up the stairs. Cautiously, she planted her ear to the door. “Fucking hell—” “Where’s my drink. Who took my—” “Let’s go upstairs—” A giggle. Another crash as someone shattered a chair against the ground. A shriek from one of the girls and more laughter. She could hide. She could go back downstairs and hide and cover her ears to the noise and wait for them to go away. It was the sensible thing to do. But her heart kept hammering, beating her brain like a war drum. Her pupils dilated and her fingers ached. The first stages of bloodlust were upon her. This was her house now. Her fingers tensed, curling tighter. If she ignored them they would just come back. They CLEAN CLOTHES
Page 1: Issue Three JUNE 2013 Volume 1, Iss
Page 5 and 6: JUNE 2013 CLEAN CLOTHES Short Story
Page 7 and 8: Lauren Hasty is a misplaced souther
Page 9 and 10: Charlie ran down the street, bare f
Page 11: She inhaled deep and then exhaled,
Page 15 and 16: PREDATOR by JUDITH DORE PREDATOR by
Page 17 and 18: Adam and I have been coming to this
Page 19 and 20: “Holy fuck,” he says. He falls
Page 21 and 22: Sound travels strangely underwater.
Page 23 and 24: UGLYLIGHTS by THE UGLYLIGHTS ICA BO
Page 25 and 26: magnifying glass with a lamp direct
Page 27 and 28: what they meant to her, and especia
Page 29 and 30: even if none of the other kids woul
Page 31 and 32: Nobody heard him, not even Cassie w
Page 33 and 34: pleas for mercy but breaking glass,
Page 35 and 36: When Janie came to her senses, she
Page 37 and 38: It was a choked, guttural voice, li
Page 39 and 40: more companions to join him in his
Page 41 and 42: Jackie squatted in the prison yard,
Page 43 and 44: A guard in the tower had taken aim.
Page 45 and 46: Jackie squatted in the prison yard,
Page 47 and 48: The Laugher was in the front of the
Page 49 and 50: he wanted to dispense some vigilant
Page 51 and 52: ITH TWO L’s by COLIN JAMES
Page 53 and 54: TOR STREET by LAST HOUSE ON VECTOR
Page 55 and 56: “I have your word?” Richard wen
Page 57 and 58: PEEPING TOM’S TOM’s N
Page 59 and 60: PEEPING TOM’s MASTERPIECE by NATE
Page 61 and 62: PICK UP LINE by DAN LEE PICK UP LIN
Page 63 and 64:
After a few minutes of listening to
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DEN GROW? by HOW DOES ONE’s GARDE
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As that vast maw yawned there befor
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Night had barely fallen when two hi
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man began to escort Kevin down the
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“Caitlyn. What about yours?”
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“Werewolves?” Just hearing the
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SHA ANNIE ANNIEN
Page 79 and 80:
SHADES OF BLUE by ANNIE NEUGEBAUER
Page 81 and 82:
EYER’s RING by CASSIE MEYER’s R
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out and rubbed the dirt and dry mud
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money before speaking, “How’s i
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eflection in the mirror. Terry’s
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simple chain, an identical ring sit
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The price of admission to their clu
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knocked on his door, Boy snuck up b
Page 95 and 96:
Boy placed the rabbit in the center
Page 97 and 98:
to let go but Boy easily backhanded
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